The Faboulous Adventures of Trevor the Toad
by bluemchen6
Summary: Just as the title says: A series of one-shots about the various adventures of everyone's favourite toad.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: These stories are slightly AU as I started writing them before the HP books 6 & 7 were published.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters you recognize nor the world they live in. I only borrowed them to amuse myself.

**A New Life Begins**

"Mommy! Mommy! Look!" The little boy called excited, standing on tip-toes to gaze into the glass tank on the dusty shelf.

A small slightly harried looking women stepped up behind the boy: "What is it Maravill?"

"Look! Is it dead?" he asked breathlessly, watching the sole occupant in the glass-container with morbid fascination.

"Eew!" the women wrinkled her nose in disgust and tried to coax her son away: "Come on Villie, let's have a look at the cats! They are _sooo_ much more fun."

But the boy stubbornly shook his head, and refused to take his eyes from the lifeless toad on display in the aquarium.

It was a nice tank, at least for a toad; filled with plants of all sorts, an artificial pond and a magically regulated climate to provide ideal living conditions for toads, frogs and the like. And in the middle of this little amphibian paradise lay a large green-brownish toad, pale underbelly up, all extremities stretched wide away from its body.

Failing to interest her son in one of the shop's more alive inhabitants the mother of little Maravill strode briskly to the counter, where an elderly witch was preparing a nutrition-food-mixture for baby owls.

"There's a dead toad in the tank over there." She hissed "That's disgusting!!! Especially in a shop frequented by lot's of children. Maybe I should report you to the ministerial subdivision for animal protection. You shouldn't let your beasts rot in their cages!!! That's downright barbaric!"

The elderly witch threw a bored glance into the direction the enraged customer had indicated. "Calm down, lass. No need to get kittens." She drawled and awkwardly stepped from behind the counter, stripping away her dragon-hide gloves, sullied by a vile mix of mashed meat pieces and oat flakes. She shuffled towards the container in question and stopped behind the boy.

"He ain't dead." She declared after only a casual glance at the toad.

"Yes, he is!" Maravill disagreed petulantly.

The witch, whose name-tag identified her as _'Brendine'_ sneered at the kid. She had always preferred animals to children. They didn't talk back – usually.

"Watch." She commanded and rapped her knuckles smartly against the thick glass.

Nothing.

"I told you! Maravill crowed triumphantly "it's dead!"

Brendine ignored him and knocked again, addressing the toad: "You can stop pretending. I know that you are very much alive."

Nothing.

The witch folded her arms and impatiently drummed her fingers on her upper-arm: "I'm not fooled, boy. I'm not gonna take you out of your container."

Again – nothing.

But wait!

First the left hind-leg twitched ever so slightly. Then, after a moment, the whole toad flipped over, glaring at the people looking at him.

"Oh!" the boy sighed, sounding rather disappointed.

The boy's mother stared shocked at the zombie toad, first turning pale and then red, obviously embarrassed for making such a fuss over nothing. She gripped her child, mumbled a quiet farewell and dragged her protesting boy towards the exit.

"I want to see the other animals! You said I could choose a rat ……..! he wailed.

"Another time, Villie. What do you think about an ice-ream …"

That was the last that Brendine could hear, before the door fell close behind the pair. "Brat." The witch muttered under her breath, than turned around when she heard someone chuckling.

It was a rather small, wiry man with a thin moustache and equally thin brown hair. Rather unremarkable, but for the obvious sparkle of amusement and mischief lightening up his eyes. "That was awfully funny."

Brendine shrugged noncomittical, but a smile tugged at her thin lips.

The man came over and eyed the brownish toad: "I have never seen a toad acting like this before."

"He's special." Brendine answered, gazing fondly at the animal.

The man seemed interested, a rarity, as toads were considered unfashionable and dull in to-day's wizarding world. Expecting potion brewers, who appreciated pickled toad-eyes as an unproblematic, multifunctional ingredient. And Brendine would never sell an animal to one of those.

"Why was he playing dead-toad?" the man inquired "I presume he didn't do it only to fluster that poor women."

"Ah." This time Brendine smiled a real smile. "Our boy has an unquenchable desire for adventure. Over time he has become some kind of escape-king. He found out that the only way to get out of the cage for an animal is to be bought, sick or dead. And as toads aren't in demand and sickness is harder to fake, he apparently decided that death was the ticket to heaven, so to speak."

"The first time he pulled this stunt, we had to close the shop and chase him over an hour before we caught him. The second time our apprentice wanted to feed his assumed corpse to our snakes and carried him into our food depot, from where he vanished.

We rediscovered him three days later sleeping in the basket of the shop-owners pet cat."

The man raised both eyebrows in a comical fashion (probably because he couldn't manage to raise only one) and sniggered: "I gather the cat was pretty harassed."

"Quite." Agreed Brendine snickering likewise.

Suddenly the man leaned forward, tapped at the tank and started to baby-talk: "Who is a pretty toad? Who is? Yes, **you** are!"

The toad threw him a disgusted glance, then uncerimously turned around to show the humans his blank posterior. Making it clear, that talk such as this was beneath its dignity.

The man laughed loudly at the toad's attitude: "He is quite the character! I like him."

"He is quite a hand full." Brendine admitted.

"I am looking for a pet for my nephew." The man informed Brendine, twirling the few strands of his moustache "He would be perfect."

"May I ask how old your nephew is?"

"He's eleven. He just got his invitation letter from Hogwarts. We are all very proud of him and I thought a pet would be the ideal present for this occasion."

"Hm, eleven. Don't you think an owl or even a rat would be a better choice for the boy? Youth considers them _cool_."

"Neville will like the toad. Besides, what can possibly be more wicked than a toad who can drop dead at will?"

There was nothing that Brendine could possibly say to that.

She opened the cover of the tank and reached for the toad. The amphibian dithered excitedly as it was freed from its prison, carried through the shop – only to be put into a cardboard box with breathing holes.

He quacked resentfully.

"Shush, boy!" Brendine said "Finally someone bought you. A new live begins for you." With that she closed the lid of the box.

***

For some time the toad was jumbled and rumbled about in it's dark narrow box, which was rather exciting. Then his transport-container was placed somewhere and the toad's world became very still, expect for the cacophony of what seemed hundreds of voices talking all over each other.

Getting bored by the darkness of his space-limited confinement and listening to disembodied voices, too jumbled together to make sense of them, the toad decided to do something about it: He jumped, hitting his head at the top of the box, but succeeding in moving the carton a few millimetres.

Pleased with himself, he repeated the process until he heard a stern, female voice, who apparently had seen the box move, raising over all the others: "By Morgana, Algie! What in the world is in that box? I hope it is not any more irish pixies."

Now a male voice, which belonged to the man that had bought him, answered in mock outrage: "I wouldn't!" and after a short pause he added: "That's old news, I already brought _them_ last Christmas."

"Exactly" the women answered "poor Afgahna's hair is still pink and Archiebald still hasn't rediscovered his prized selection of Scottish and Irish whiskeys. Nor will he anytime soon, I suspect."

One could practically hear the man's, Algie's, grin as he replied: "Never fear, dear Augusta. It has been fun, but I don't play the same prank twice. No, in here" he gripped the box and carried it a few paces "is a present for our new Hogwarts student. Here boy! You can take it, I promise it will not bite. Don't shake it."

The toad listened attentively as someone fumbled with the box and than slowly lifted the lid as if he expected the box to blow into his face. He looked up expectantly and faced a sweet looking boy who cautiously peered into the box. His round face broke into a delighted smile when he discovered the occupant of the crate.

The boy reached into the box and carefully lifted the animal out. "A toad." He whispered in awe "Thank you, uncle Algie. It's beautiful."

The amphibian preened proudly, fully aware that he was the centre of attention in a room full of wizards, who had obviously gathered to celebrate his arrival.

The boy, who held him gently, petted his cold slick skin. It was rather nice. He could definitely get used to it.

"He doesn't have a name yet." The man who had bought him spoke up "You'll have to think of something, Neville."

The boy scrunched up his good-natured, round face in thought.

"What do you think about _'Princesa'_?" a grey-haired women with sharp features proposed.

The toad croaked indignantly in protest and Algie scoffed: "Honestly, Augusta! It's a toad not some spoilt, fat kitty! Besides, it is a boy and quite the adventurer, I am told. Something like _'Killer'_ would be more appropriate."

The two seemed ready to go into a full-fledged fight over the name issue, when Neville spoke up: "I think I'll call him Trevor."

"After the third Supreme Mugwumpin wizard history." The women observed.

"After the gremlin, who set fire on minister Fudge's bowler hat." The man laughed.

"Good choice!" They chorused.

Trevor the toad.

It had a certain ring to it – he liked it.

Trevor jumped excitedly in Neville's palm. He had a name, a boy of his own and a live full of adventure in front of him.

Life was going to be good.

_~End~_


	2. Chapter 2

**Greenie**

Maud Kessler clutched her „Captain America" comic book tightly to her chest, as she darted through the masses of pupils loitering in the hallways. Tears were stinging in her eyes. She sped up, trying to ignore the jeers and catcalls that sounded after her.

Her peers were so mean. How had she been supposed to know that ordinary murkroot-fertilizer put in the pot of the inconspicuous Molluns' Beard would result in a violent reaction of opposite magics and render greenhouse one unusable for three weeks, in addition to leaving the classes' robes only fit to burn? And if not for Headmaster Dumbledore's extraordinary magical power they might have had to set fire on the greenhouse as well, just to get rid of the stench that the incident caused.

Most of the boys had found it funny and had rejoiced at the idea of a bonfire, but the prissy girls from Ravenclaw and even the one's of her own house hadn't been amused. Above all, Laurette Lancaste.

Shortly after she had to hand over her spoiled favourite robe (which were clearly _not_ inside Hogwarts regulations for student robes as they had been dyed a very, very dark blue instead of black) Laurette Lancaste, the most popular witch in their year had duped her: _„stench-wench"_.

And the name had stuck. Not only that, it had spread all over the school, swept over to the other years and now hardly anyone knew Maud by any other name than _stench-wench_.

The unfortunate accident had happened only two weeks into Maud's first school term. She really didn't need too long to botch things up for herself. Her only solace and refuge were her beloved comic books about her favourite superheroes. Her little brother sneaked them into the parcels that her mum sent by return owl whenever she wrote a letter.

She had been thrilled when she had learned that she was a witch. That she was invited to study at one of the most renown institutes for magical education, as she had read up as soon as she got her spell books. Just like Xavier's school for gifted youngsters – it was like a dream come true for Maud. She was destined to become a member of a world were all people had superhuman powers. She had been determined to do well.

In her childish fantasy this magical place had been an utopia, where kids like herself could discover their power together and gradually grow into it. A place where she wouldn't be the wired, nerdy girl alternatively scorned or ignored.

The start in her new life had been promising. She had gotten along well enough with the other children that shared the compartment during the train ride to their new school; all of them first years and two of them muggleborn like herself; which simply meant, as far as Maud understood, that they didn't have any parents with superpowers.

Despite being nervous as hell, she had been sorted into Hufflepuff without embarrassing herself and her housemates had appeared to be a pleasant lot. She didn't befriend anyone in particular, but everyone had been friendly. Until the infamous greenhouse episode.

_The laugh is always on the loser!_ How very true her grand-mother's favourite saying proved to be. Studiously trying to cover the fact, that they hadn't previously known that the union between murkroot fertilizer and Mollun's Beard resulted in the eruption of an enormous gas cloud which put 50 simultaneously ignited dungbombs to shame, her peers delightedly mocked her for the mistake.

Under normal circumstances the episode would have been talked about in great length for a week or two, until something else captured the fancy of the school's grapevine. However Laurette was really pissed about the fate of her designer-robes and arising the girl's wrath had become Maud's downfall.

Besides the fact that Laurette was an incredible pretty girl with an angelic smile and a poutthat could melt the Arctic Sea, she was popular and influential due to her parents' celebrity. Her mother was a moderator for the daily radio-broadcast _„Waking with Mim"_ and her father was a highly demanded model for the designer-chain _Merlin._

Every time the general interest in Maud seemed to waver, Laurette found a way to draw attention to the awkward girl in some way or the other. Truly Maud didn't make it hard for Laurette to find something to taunt about, as she was an awkward, bumbling thing, prone to nervousness as soon as anyone paid attention to her. And when lost in her nervous insecurities anything that Maud approached was destined to go the wrong way.

Even patient, good – natured Professor Flitwick had lost his temper, when Maud had set fire on the feather she was supposed to levitate for the sixth time. Especially when Maud timidly claimed that, when she practised the spell for homework, she had no problems at all to make the feather do her will.

Not believing that it was possible to levitate a feather outside of the classroom, while accomplishing nothing put heaps of ashes during supervised lessons and detesting that students' thought they could play him for a fool just because he was friendly, her failure cost Hufflepuff 5 house points. Needless to say, that Maud's popularity in her own house dropped even lower after this.

Maud dodged around a burly Slytherin who strutted down the aisle as if he owned the place and fled into a disused classroom. Hither she always fled, when she was in need of some peace from her peers.

Actually she had set up the room quite comfortably. Most desks were pushed in the forefront of the classroom in a wild clutter. You were only able to reach the rear by climbing over the desks. In the back she had used pillows and sheets to build a cosy reading-corner. Diagonally beside it stood a desk, that she used as shelf and another desk was pushed against the wall, ready in case she had any homework to do.

Her personal secret lair.

Only - today it wasn't as vacant as usual.

Maud closed the door behind her and locked it with a very simple spell. When she turned to climb over the clutter of desks she noticed two feet sticking out from under said writing tables. The person seemed to be a boy, concluding from the muffled voice, with which he spoke to someone – or something under the tables.

Carefully she crept closer and peered over the crouched boy's form into the dark under the desks, but couldn't discern anything. Curious despite herself she asked shyly: „What are you doing".

„Eeep." The boy squealed, followed closely by a dull thump and a loud: „Ow."

Then, from the depths of the classroom furniture, emerged a tubby boy with a round face, rubbing his head.

Maud was stricken and spluttered: „Sorry! I' didn't mean to startle you."

The boy smiled sheepishly at Maud: „It's o.k. Not your fault. If anyone is to blame for this lump it's him." And he gestured towards the desks.

Not really understanding what the boy was talking about, but reassured by the fact that he seemed kind Maud dared to continue the conversation. Still, she wasn't a really practised conversationalist and so she simply said: „I'm Maud."

„Hey," the boy greeted „my name's Neville. Nice to meet you." He offered her his hand as he stood up from the floor.

„What are you doing in here?" she asked, not intending to sound rude, but still a little miffed that someone intruded into her personal space.

Neville let his gaze sweep through the classroom and Maud could see that he came to the correct conclusion that she regularly used this room as her hideout. Nevertheless he did not mention it, but simply explained: "I've been hunting down my pet. He is a very crafty, elusive animal. I swear, he enjoys vanishing for days, getting me worried, just to see how long it will take me to track him down."

Maud chuckled at the boy's exasperated face, but quickly stifled it, feeling guilty. She knew that it was no fun to provide entertainment for everyone else.

Though the boy didn't seem to mind, in fact his face lightened up: „You could help me to catch him!"

„Me?" Maud asked uncertainly. „What would I have to do?" She asked suspiciously. If Neville was pulling her leg …

The boy sat back down on the floor and indicated for Maud to do the same. Than he explained: „I would like to have a little chat with you."

Maud settled down, opposite of the round boy: „And how is that supposed to help you catching your pet."

„You'll see." Neville smiled mysteriously, which actually looked a little odd on his open, boyish features.

So Maud had the first real talk with a fellow student since her blew up in Herbology. At first she was a bit timid, but grew more at ease every minute. Especially since Neville seemed plagued by the same tendency for ridiculous accidences like herself. And he had no problem talking about it only to amuse Maud with his stories.

She actually enjoyed the conversation so much that she didn't notice any movement from under the tables, until Neville's right arm shot out and gripped something. Something, that struggled against his grasp. „I have you!" the boy crowed triumphantly.

He brought his other hand around and cupped his prisoner with both of them. The captive seemed to graciously accept defeat at that and stilled his movements.

Now Maud could see what Neville held so firmly. „It's a toad!" she exclaimed.

Neville laughed and petted the animal fondly: „His name is Trevor. Trevor, meet Maud."

The toad seemed to fix its dull golden eyes on the girl and croaked.

„I have never seen anyone, who actually had a toad as a pet." She remarked, eying the amphibian.

„Yes," Neville agreed. „It's rather rare. To tell the truth, most people consider them dull. But they haven't met Trevor."

„Can I stroke him?" Maud asked.

„Sure." Neville handed her the toad and Maud gingerly run her fingers over the slick, cool skin.

The toad let its lids drop and rumbled. If Trevor was a kitten she would have sworn that he purred. „Why did he come out from his hiding place only because we were talking?" She asked curiously, her eyes still on the toad.

Neville laughed again: „He's vain! Trevor knew that I was aware of him under the desks, as well as the fact that I wouldn't be able to reach him. But me having a talk with someone while I was supposed to try and coax him from his retreat, wounded his pride."

„But he seems to like my presence now." Maud objected.

„Of course he does. Now he is the centre of our attention and we are talking about _him_."

Maud joined Neville's laughter.

Neville stayed with Maud in the classroom until dinner-time amusing her with tales of Trevor's insatiable desire for freedom and the unlikeable places he has found his toad after its various escapes. They were only interrupted from time to time by an indigent croak from Trevor, demanding Maud's attention whenever her fingers stilled form their caress.

***

The weeks went by, and still Loretta hadn't forgiven Maud for her lost robe. Or maybe she just enjoyed having someone to belittle. Maud's days were mostly spent isolated, either in „her" classroom, the first year's dormitory or the library buried in spell books, homework or the newest adventure novel of Batmen & Co. Although she wasn't as miserable as she had been prior to meeting Neville.

The boy, who attended second year in Gryffindor, always greeted her when they met in the hallways and had actually visited her in the disused classroom once or twice. Maybe he was only continually friendly, because she started to practise the freezing charm, that they were taught in charms, on unsuspecting flies and collected them in a glass jar as treats for Trevor. But Maud didn't care about his reasons, only glad that there was at least one friendly face in the crowd of Hogwarts students.

It was All-Hallows-Eve when the tables were turned and Maud Kessler's luck changed:

Maud sat in the Transfiguration classroom, her edition of _A Beginer's Guide to Transfiguration_ by Emeric Switch propped up before her. She was early and the classroom otherwise deserted. She skimmed through the Halloween Special of _"The Fantastic Four"_, that she had concealed in her schoolbook. Maud was so engrossed by her heroes struggle for justice that she didn't hear as someone entered McGonagall's domain.

Hence she jumped nearly two feet into the air and ripped a site of her comic when she was suddenly addressed: "Morning, Maud."

"Good Lord, Neville! Don't do this."

The Gryffindor looked suitable apologetic: "Sorry."

Maud sighed: "Never mind." She pulled her wand out of her backpack and spoke a quick _Reparo_ spell over the mutilated comic book. Then she looked up to face Neville, who shook his head disbelieving: "Wow. Where did you learn this one? That's a really handy spell. I could use that one."

"I read about it, when I was browsing the library and thought it a useful spell. I just followed the instructions in the book."

"You're a very talented witch." Neville remarked, with maybe a hint of wistfulness behind his words.

Maud blushed at the compliment.

"Anyway," Neville spoke up again "the reason I was looking for you. I wanted to ask if you could keep your eyes open for Trevor. He vanished for one of his adventure – sprees." He sighed defeated: "Again."

Maud could hardly keep a straight face, but promised that she would watch out for the elusive toad.

The day proceeded like any other day in Hogwarts. Well, of course, the students were exited and hardly talked about anything else but the feast at dinner. Rumour had it that Headmaster Dumbledore had engaged dancing skeletons as evening-entertainment. Also Hogwart's pranksters threw more dungbombs than usual to honour the day accordingly, but everything else was as always. Which meant that Maud was harassed during Herbology by the not so discreet whispering of her nickname, managed to hit Professor Snape in the eye with chopped goat-liver as her knife slipped and that someone thought it funny to spike her pumpkin-juice with salt at lunch.

All things that she learnt to ignore. However she wasn't as hard-nosed as to provoke such incidences. So when she saw Peeves floating along the corridor in search for some mayhem to cause, she slipped quietly into a girls-bathroom.

Having a practical disposition she used the opportunity for a short trip to the toilet. As she left her stall she came face to face with Lorette Lancaste, who leaned against the washstand. "Hey, stench-wench!" she greeted "I could tell it was you, as soon as you entered the bathroom. That smell is unmistakable."

Maud lowered her head and stepped up to the sink, washing her hands.

"You don't have to try. That won't make you smell any better. I swear, you still reek from the Herbology fiasco, I doubt you'll ever get rid of that stench." The blonde girl taunted.

Maud's eyes became traitorously wet, but she tried desperately not to show any weakness in front of Laurette.

This one seemed content for the moment with her achievement and turned likewise to wash her manicured fingers.

That was when it happened.

Laurette was viciously attacked!

An earsplitting terrified scream ripped through the nearly empty bathroom and was thrown back magnified by the tiled walls.

Maud's head jerked up, but all that she could see at first, was the usually dignified Laurette screaming bloody murder, gyrating wildly.

The door flew open and a Slytherin Prefect and her friends, who had walked along with her and heard the panicked yelling, came bursting through it, wands drawn. There was a moment of confusion as the older students tried to determine the next step of action in aiding the freaked out first-year and ascertain the cause of it.

Then Maud heard the disagreeable sound of something hitting the pink-tiled wall and Laurette threw herself into the arms of the Slytherin prefect, sobbing hysterically.

The Slytherin girls all looked rather disgusted with the Ravenclaw's undampened emotional reaction, but true to duty tried to calm her down and get a coherent explanation out of the girl.

Meanwhile Maud investigated the green-brown lump that had been thrown against the wall. "Trevor!" she breathed, scoping the slightly battered amphibian up and checking him for injuries.

In the meantime Laurette had rediscovered her ability to form sentences and was pointing an accusing finger at the Hufflepuff first-year: "She attacked me! I don't know how she did it, but she set some … some monstrosity at me. I never did anything to her." She wailed.

The Slytherin Prefect was really annoyed by the sniffling first-year. She had better things to do. So she asked sharply: "Is that true?" And as Maud was too busy petting Trevor as to realise that she was meant the Slytherin was forced to repeat herself, which didn't improve her mood: "Hey! I' m talking to you and I don't appreciate being ignored."

Maud turned at the pissed tone that was addressed to her "What did you do to your classmate?"

"Nothing." Maud stammered timidly, keeping her eyes firmly at the floor.

"She claims that you attacked her. And I hardly think that anyone can scream like that without a good reason." The prefect snapped, rubbing her abused left ear.

"I really, didn't do anything." Maud assured, but nervousness made her barley audible.

The Slytherin Prefect just glared, in a quite nice imitation of Professor Snape's famous stare. But behind the girl, her friends started to elbow each other and distinct snickering could be heard. Peeved at undermining her authority the Prefect turned to her housemates, who just grinned and pointed at Maud. Or better Maud's hands.

The Slytherin's eyes widened a little, than a gleeful smile stole upon her broad face. "Does this one happen to be the culprit?" she asked Maud, who nodded confirming the girls' suspicions. And this made all of the them laugh vivacely. The Prefect actually thumped Laurette's shoulders, which nearly forced the bewildered Ravenclaw to the floor: "Are you telling me you screamed like a banshee because of a toad?!? A simple, harmless toad!?!"

Laurette frowned offended, while Maud actually dared to smile shyly at the general hilarity.

"All right!" The prefect gasped between bouts of laughter "I don't think there is any need for me to interfere. Continue as you will."

She winked at Maud before she turned and left the bathroom with her entourage chatting amused: "Can you believe …"

Laurette stared after them incredulous before she gave Maud and Trevor a hateful glare and then departed in a huff, slamming the door in the process.

Only now Maud allowed herself to laugh out loud and give Trevor a peck for his trouble.

***

At the legendary Hogwarts Halloween feast a big surprise awaited little Mrs. Kessler. Wherever she went, regardless who she passed, her peers only had one topic tonight: Laurette Lancate's panic attack caused by a toad. _A Toad! Can you believe it_?

Apparently Slytherin girls were no different from the female student body of other houses. They thrived on gossip just as much as the others. It was really astounding how fast such stories travelled through the school, regardless of house-boundaries.

Laurette sat alone and humiliated at the Ravenclaw table while everyone else had a good laugh at her expense. And not once this evening Maud was referred to as stench-wench. In fact, as one of the eyewitness of Laurette's hysterical bout she was sought after and had the time of her life recounting Trevor's endeavour.

This was just great! From now on she could counter any of Laurette's _stench-wench_ commentary with a _frog-princess_ retort – and already the people would have someone else to laugh at.

Comfortably fed and in the very best mood she cornered Neville after the feast in the Great Hall. "I have someone for you." She smiled and opened her backpack.

"Trevor!" Neville exclaimed "So it was really him, that ambushed that Ravenclaw in the girls' bathroom? I hadn't given up hope quite yet that it was someone else's misbehaving pet-toad."

Maud laughed at Neville's expression as she handed the toad over: "She had it coming to her."

Neville grumbled and started berating his pet for escaping once again and being nothing but trouble, while Maud watched the scene highly amused.

When Neville stopped to draw breath she interrupted: "Don't listen to him, Trevor. You are my hero." She leaned forward and placed another kiss on the top of the toad's head. "In fact, I think you deserve an alias. Every respectable superhero needs an alias." She contemplated the animal who regarded her curiously.

"I know! How do you like: The incredible, unsurpassed _Greenie_? I think it suits you."

Trevor croaked.

Maud clapped her hands in delight: "My Hero!"

Trevor bathed in the attention and Neville just looked puzzled.

_~The End~_


	3. Chapter 3

**Matchmaker**

_Cupid__ is neither a child nor blind, but a Gulf coast toad._

What? You don't believe me? You would rather trust such respected people like Shakespeare and various painters and authors of past centuries?

No, I assure you, I am not offended. But dear reader, I ask of you to first read the following account and only then settle your mind on this matter for good:

Night has covered the Scottish highlands with her dark gown. The moon was newly born and only spent fragile light, though her stellar flock shinned all the more brightly. Silver wasps of mist crept slowly along the humid ground, giving the creatures of the night a mystical world to roam.

Besides the characteristic sounds of the night, nothing was to be heard. But wait!

Yes, there was something else: The sound of scuffling feet and quiet whispers.

And this could mean only one thing: Hogwarts students out of bed!

If Filch knew of this! But the caretaker was nursing a cold and hadn't been seen around Hogwarts for nearly two days. Mrs. Norris very likely kept her master company.

The other major threat to pupils sneaking around after curfew was of course the generally feared Professor Snape.

Though one of our culprits, namely Roger Harvey from Ravenclaw, had it from reliable sources that the Potion master was busy preparing _capulets_. Those delicate flowers could only be used effectively in potions (without causing hazardous consequences) when picked by full moon and pre-processed the ensuing new moon.

Considering all those components Roger had felt sure enough to invite his secret crush Adara Nott out on this date.

Adara was two years his junior and had been sorted into Ravenclaw as well. She was very exited about Roger's proposal, because it was the first time ever that a boy had asked her out.

This is the reason why we can now observe the pair of them, sneaking stealthily through the dark hallways of the deserted school. They hadn't dared to light their wands and were padding through near total darkness. Roger was leading the girl, her hand held firmly in his own.

"Damn," Roger swore quietly when he thumped his toe for the hundredth time.

"Maybe we should return." Adara suggested. The whole sneaking through nightly blackness business frightened her a bit.

However Roger was determined to see this date through. It would be a long time before the circumstances would be as favourable as they were at the moment. Filch sick, Snape out of the picture and Professor Lockhart on watch duty. This was a one in a live-time chance. Tonight, the probability of being caught lay by only 3.89 %.

Finally they reached the staircase of the legendary Astronomy Tower, guardian and shelter for generations of Hogwarts couples. Anticipation rose within them both with every step that they climbed higher towards the top-room of the tower. When they entered the classroom a quiet gasp escaped both of them.

It was an enchanting room. The round chamber was equipped with a number of cosy, worn sofas and low tables where students usually placed their charts. A thick red carpet covered the stone floor and nothing indicated that this was actually a classroom, as telescopes, star-charts and other instruction material had been neatly shrunk and stored in the formidable oak-cabinet or the at the far wall. Professor Sinistra was nothing if not tidy. The majority of the walls were made from glass and allowed a magnificent view at the extensive Hogwarts grounds and the nightly-sky stretching above.

Roger directed his date towards one of the inviting sofas and sat down next to her, his hand sliding from her grasp. Awkwardly they sat side by side. Adara crossed her feet and placed her entwined hands consciously in her lap, studiously avoiding eye contact with Roger. While the boy fidgeted nervously, trying desperately to gather enough courage to casually throw an arm around the girl.

What both of them did not know – _they were not alone!_

A pair of cloudy golden eyes stared at the couple from between the intricate decorations of the heavy chandelier that hang from the ceiling. It usually was lit during Professor Sinistra's introduction-lectures, before the actual star-gazing begun. For a long time the eyes didn't move, steadfast focused on the two Ravenclaws, who likewise did not move.

This might have gone on for the better part of the night, if the secret observer hadn't taken matters in his own hands. Or maybe he just wanted a view from another angle. Anyway, that is not important. Worth mentioning is only that the third party in the tower-chamber decided on a change of scenery - and leapt.

Adara jumped: "What was that?" Her trembling fingers sought and found Roger's in search for reassurance.

"I did not hear anything." Roger answered. Not one to pass up an opportunity he gently squeezed Adara's hand, and casually let his thump caress her palm.

The on-looker huffed annoyed. He certainly hadn't planned to land in the dustbin! Scrambling frantically to free himself from torn pieces of parchment, parts of broken kaleidoscopes and what looked like half-eaten Berty Bott's Every Flavour Beans. And what was that disgusting latex thing?

Adara slid closer to Roger, so that their shoulders touched. "There it was again." She whispered fearfully

Roger cheered internally and casually wrapped his arm around the frightened girl: "Trust me, there is nothing here."

Though Adara was sure that the sudden feeling of being watched was not only her vivid imagination (she was a Ravenclaw for Merlin's shake!) she settled into the embrace. It was kind of nice. The girl leant her head on the older boy's shoulders. She even started to relax.

Meanwhile, Trevor (who else?) has managed to crawl along the wall of the bin and straighten up. His head now peered curiously over the rim of the bucket framed by his forelegs. The scenery that was now offered to the toad was certainly a lot more interesting then before. He wanted to get a closer look! Trevor let himself back down and then jumped with all his might against the constricting wall of the waste-paper basket. The bucket toppled over with a loud crash and spilled litter all over the carpet.

This time Adara practically crawled into Roger's lap burying her head in his shoulder. She couldn't suppress scared whimpers as she pressed even closer to her date, trembling like a leaf.

Under any other circumstances Roger would have enjoyed this position immensely, but at the moment he felt rather queasy himself. This time the sounds had been impossible to miss. Adara was right. There was something in here with them.

Carefully he detangled himself from Adara, raising shakily to his feet.

"What are you doing?" the girl whispered frantically. You could practically hear the tears in her voice.

Roger swallowed, then he answered, trying to sound confidant: "I want to investigate the noise."

He lit his wand and took a careful step in the direction of the overthrown trash-can.

"Don't leave me alone." Adara whispered panicked. She scrambled of the sofa and followed Roger, using the boy's body as shield against possible threats that might lurk in the darkness.

Roger reached behind him and took Adara's hand. Her's were cold, his slightly clammy.

Tentively they made their way across the classroom, when Adara clutched Roger's hand even more tightly: "There was something." She whispered frantically.

Roger swung his wand arm with the lit wand, but they couldn't see anything. "Psst." Roger commanded in a low voice "We can't see him, but maybe we will hear where he is."

They listened, holding their breaths.

Trevor, now safely sitting under one of the sofas, tilted his head to the side watching the curious behaviour of the two-leggers. He had been witness to enough encounters in this room between boys and girls, and he knew that this was not how it was supposed to turn out. In fact, his experience suggested that every pair of students that came to this part of the castle was supposed to sit or lie on one of the sofas and engage in exploring the other with the limited resources that were at the disposal for humans. Tough Trevor had noted a certain preference of mouth and tongue for those studies. Those clueless children got it all wrong!

This would not do, Trevor decided. It seemed like it was his job to teach them how proper boys and girls acted when they were in the Astronomy Tower. Having noted what positive effects his previous movements had had on the pair, he resolved that it was time for drastic measures.

Trevor jumped, satisfied as the two humans turned around, alarmed by the slight thud that sounded when he hit the sofa above him. Making sure that the light of the wand was falling on the sofa Trevor leaped dramatically into the spotlight.

A small cry escaped Adara and she pressed her body close to Roger at the sudden appearance of their stalker.

"It's only a toad." Roger shooted, while he turned in Adara's vice-like grip and hugged her to his chest. "Only a toad." He repeated and caressed her hair.

Adara peered over Roger's shoulder. It really was only a toad!

Relived and still running high on adrenaline she felt ready to do anything. So she reached up and tangled her hand in Roger's soft hair. Then she pressed her mouth firmly onto his and the only thing that counted was that they were together.

Smugly Trevor let his glands swell, as if he would like to shout: "Success!" and punch the air victoriously.

For some minutes he watched the action between the kids pleased with himself. Then he turned his back on them and made his way to the door. There was still so much to explore in this castle and he was sure that his next adventure just waited around the corner.

_~End~_


	4. Chapter 4

**The Missing Sock**

_It was hot, stuffy and it__ had ceased to be amusing a long time ago. Annoyed he hopped once again in the vain attempt to escape his stifling confinement . There was a sharp impact as he connected with something living – and then all hell broke lose …_

~Ten minutes earlier~

A frustrated cry rang through the fifth year boys dormitory. "Damn it all to hell! Where is this fucking freaking sock!" Dean Thomas emerged from the trunk in front of his bed to shoot a glare at his best friend Seamus, who looked far to comfortable in Dean's opinion.

Seamus's only answer was one of his famous, cheeky grins.

The black boy huffed and than dived head-first back into his trunk in quest of his missing Westham fan sock. Seamus, cosily perched on his own four-poster bed, rolled onto his stomach. His long, gangly legs swinging idly and his head propped onto his arms he watched his mate's fanatic search. "You could just wear another pair." He suggested loftily.

Dean's head jerked up at this sacrilegious proposition – and promptly hit the lid of his wooden chest. However he hardly felt anything in his righteous rage. Anyone else beside Seamus would now have fled the scene or holed up under one of the massive beds, because the normally placent and agreeable Dean was a scary sight when truly angered.

His right hand was rubbing the back of his head, while the other was placed on his hip. He stood, feet firmly planted on the ground and leaning slightly forward, like a bull preparing for an attack. His nosestirls flared and his dark eyes burned in rage.

As it was, Seamus's only answer was a quiet chuckle, which of course only served to provoke the dark skinned boy even more. A book, which happened to be the closest thing in Dean's reach, sailed through the air and smacked the Irish boy on the side of his head.

"No need to get violent." Seamus said, his infuriating grin still firmly fixed on his slightly freckled face.

Dean bared his pearl-white teeth and then twirled around, stomped over to the bed next to his and threw open the lid of the trunk before it.

Garments, knick-knack and provisions all flew out over Dean's black haired head until he reached the bottom of the chest. Having not found what he was looking for, he moved on to the next box. Which proved just as devoid of any a result after his raid as the ones before.

Angrily he kicked a sweater out of his way as he headed for the trunk in the far corner. Unfortunately the jumper was coated with an indefinable substance – and Dean had used his sock-less feet to perform said move …

"God, damn it!" Dean screamed before all fight left him and then sank defeated to the floor, right into the mess that he had created.

"You know," Seamus remarked, legs still cheerfully bobbing "I wasn't joking before. Just wear another pair of socks. Get wild, man!"

"You know that I can't do that." Dean whined, all signs of rage evaporated "I **need** those socks. You know very well that I have a date with Ginny tonight."

Seamus nodded, but his raised eyebrows clearly indicated that he doubted his friend's dependency on his socks, which of course didn't go unnoticed by Dean: "Those are my lucky-socks." He pouted.

The Irish boy rolled his eyes.

"They are!" Dean insisted "Besides, I've got a signature from Ludek Miklosko on them."

Seamus sighed and rose from his comfortable position on the bed. It was time to get some sense back into his best friend. Dean had a date with one of the hottest Gryffindor girls (Seamus looked guiltily over his shoulder, reassuring himself that none of Ginny's brothers was in the vicinity. It wouldn't do to even _think_ something on those lines about their sister with one of them around). He would be damned if he sent his friend on a rendezvous with the Weasley girl, still bitching about his missing Westham sock. Nor would he tolerate Dean showing up on the date with two different socks on, only because he refused to be separated from his remaining Westham sock.

"Stop it, you big baby." He admonished and tossed a shirt at Dean. "Here, clean yourself up."

Grumbling Dean caught the grey shirt, one of Harry's he noted, and started to scrub his poor foot. "What the hell is this?" he swore disgusted by the sticky molasse that clung to his skin.

Seamus approached, mindful to avoid stepping in anything potentially icky himself. He lifted the offending sweater up to his nose, careful to grip the garment only between his thump and forefinger. He sniffed.

"Seems like Ron forgot a Chocolate Frog in his trunk, wrapped it in his used Quidditch-underrobes and than spilled a failed potion project, that smelled like rotten eggs, over it. Which then melted all of it together into the wonderful symbiosis that now covers this sweater." A glance at his still cursing friend "And your feet."

"Funny." Dean spat, then he took a sniff at the now sullied shirt and had to grudgingly admit: "You could be right."

Seamus only laughed.

When Dean had finished, the ash blond boy offered his hand, still grinning like a maniac. He hauled his friend back to his feet. Then he clapped the slightly larger boy admiringly on the shoulder: "I must confess, I'm amazed how a single person in search of a sock can wreck such havoc. I bow to your brilliance."

Dean let his eyes travel through their dormitory, decked out with the multifarious contents of two trunks. Trunks whose owners were fifteen year old (sloppy) boys! A blush rose in his cheeks, though it was hardly visible thanks to his dark skin colour.

Seamus giggled, actually giggled: "You see, you are lucky without your bloody socks as well. Because if Harry and Ron weren't at Quidditch-practise they would rip you a new one."

"I still have one." Dean pointed out, presenting his left foot, which, indeed, was clad in the claret and blue fan-article sock of Westham United. "But you're right, we should clean up, before they come back."

"We?" Seamus asked jestingly, but relented at Dean's glare and dropped the sweater carelessly back into Ron's trunk. "By the way, where is Neville? He could help us out."

Dean grunted as he bended down to scoop up some of the mess: "I think he is looking for that toad of his. Managed to loose him again. Do you think those briefs are Harry's or Ron's?"

Before Seamus could answer a blood curling scream shook the walls of the ancient castle. Only seconds later a cacophony of shrill shrieks, screams, frightened squeaks and running feet rose up.

The boys let everything drop were they stood and dashed from their bedroom, down the stairs, into the Gryffindor common room, which drowned in chaos. The students that had already been in the common room when the screaming started were standing, running and stumbling all over each other, either frightened out of their wits, confused or totally excited. Behind Seamus and Dean curious boys emerged from their own dormitories eager to investigate the commotion, while on the opposite side a swarm of panicked girls streamed down into the room.

Dean caught one of the girls at the shoulders and tried to question her, but to no avail. It was impossible to get anything sensible out of the girl. So he let go of her and pushed through the crowd to the staircase that lead up to the girls' sleeping quarters. Seamus followed hard on his heals.

"I only want to help the girls." Dean told the staircase before he started to climb it, two steps at once. The stair remained just that.

"That's the whole trick?" Seamus asked incredulous, before he pursued his friend, voice slightly reproachful when he called after Dean: "You could have told me sooner!"

At the top of the steps Dean gripped another girl, as incoherent as the first, but at least she was able to point them in the right direction. The trouble seemed to be originating from the third year's chamber. Gracefully Dean slid up to the door and pressed himself to the wall on the left side of the entrance, while Seamus slinked up to the right side.

Both of them drew their wands and their eyes locked for a moment. "I'll cover you." Seamus mouthed silently and Dean nodded curtly. Then he forced the door open with a sharp kick and sprung into the room, wand ready. He crouched and covered the left half of the room, while Seamus had moved in behind him and targeted the right side over Dean's head.

"My sock!!!!!" Dean exclaimed.

At the loud sound of the black boy's voice the garment quivered.

"It's alive!!!!" Seamus blurted.

The sock wriggled again and then leapt sharply to the right.

Dean lunged for it, but missed it scarcely lacking a centimetre. "Catch it!" he commanded.

A wild chase now ensued, which ended with Dean on the floor and Seamus hopping around on one leg, because he hit his big toe during pursuit. Nevertheless the Irish boy had succeeded in striking the elusive sock with a freezing charm and the claret-blue garment lay now innocently against the pale pink carpeted floor.

Cautiously Dean crawled nearer and nudged the sock with the tip of his wand. As this produced no reaction he reached for his foot-wear.

"Be careful." Seamus warned as he watched over the taller teen's shoulder, still balancing on only one leg.

"It's heavy." Dean whispered "there has to be something in there."

Warily he peered inside the sock and then laughed out loud.

"What is it?" Seamus asked curiously, still on only one foot and tilting dangerously to the right.

"I should have known. Though I wonder how he pulled that one." Dean grinned and reached inside the sock. When he pulled his hand out he held a stiff toad in his hand.

Seamus joined his friend's mirth, his only comment: "Figures!"

Dean handed Trevor to Seamus, before he slipped happily into his sock. "Now I'm ready for my date." He sighed contently.

When the two of them reached the staircase to descend back into the common room, they had to discover that it had transformed into a slide. Apparently some lesser informed boys than Dean had tried to mount the steps as well.

Dean and Seamus happily slipped down the shute, all eyes on them, since the sounds of their struggle to apprehend Trevor had been heard even downstairs drowning the noise there. Arrived at the bottom, they straightened up. Dean winked cheekily while Seamus spoke up: "No worry, ladies. The danger has passed. Dean and I have taken care of it."

A ripple of relive washed through the room as all girls started to breath again. And only an instant later questions were fired everywhere, to find out what actually had caused all the drama. Hardly anyone had seen anything. Most girls had just picked up the mood of their comrades and had likewise fallen into headless panic.

Dean and Seamus bullied through the chatting and speculating students, to where they had spotted Neville.

"Hey, Nev!" Dean greeted.

"We have something for you." Seamus said and placed Neville's frozen toad in his hands.

"Trevor!" Neville cried relived, but then added slightly worried: "What happened to him?"

"Don't worry." Seamus calmed him "I put a freezing charm on him, so he wouldn't escape. Wait." And he cast the counter spell.

Trevor turned his head, highly confused by the sudden change of scenery from dark dank constriction to the hands of his owner, though the level of noise seemed to have remainded the same.

Neville petted his toad, than a sudden thought came to him: "Oh, no! Please, tell me that it's not Trevor that is responsible for the mass-panic." He looked pleadingly at his two housemates.

"Sorry, Neville." Dean answered laughingly.

"God!" the round boy sighed defeated "What shall I do with you?" He asked the toad, which was now busy and very interested in observing the general hubbub around it.

"Don't worry, Neville." Seamus comforted the boy "we won't tell anyone that this is Trevor's fault – again."

"No?" Neville asked hopefully.

"If you lend us a hand." Dean contributed to the conversation.

The other Gryffindor eyed him suspiciously: "Lend a hand with what?"

Two twin grins met him: "Come upstairs, you'll see."

_~End~_


	5. Chapter 5

**Too much**

Neville loved everything about the Sanchez' house. It was spacious and airy and it made everyone feel welcome and at home. But his favourite room in the whole casa was the kitchen. It was so different from the painfully organized working area of the House-Elves at home. This kitchen was not simply about the preparation of food, but about living.

The kitchen was the soul of the house. Here Neville's Aunt Esme created delicious food for her husband, children and guests, with fantasy and love while the family pets and temporary staying animals romped through the room. This was the place were the Sanchez' kids sat down to do their homework or played board and card games. Where the family took their meals, drinks coffee or lemonade together, conversed, discussed and sometimes fought. The kitchen was the place where the family council met, decisions were made, problems solved and reconciliations achieved.

Every time Neville entered this part of the house he felt the presence and warmth of human emotions, so deeply soaked into the walls, washing over him. He always felt secure and loved in here. Also today, most anxiety left the nearly twelve year old boy as he entered the kitchen. His Aunt was sitting on the sand-coloured stone floor teaching owl fledglings the very basics of letter-transportation and his Uncle Javier read the _Advinador de mundo_ at the large dining table.

Esmeralda Sanchez was the first to noticed the arrival of their nephew: "Hola, cariño! What's up?" she smiled while Javier peered over the edge of his newspaper at the boy.

"Ehm, Aunt Esme. Have you seen Trevor? I can't find him anywhere." Neville asked, slightly embarrassed.

"Your toad?" His aunt questioned "No, I'm sorry, honey."

Javier just shook his head when Neville glanced hopefully at him. Neville's posture slumped.

"Don't worry, darling." His aunt comforted him "I'm sure he will turn up soon enough. He always does. No?"

Neville nodded in agreement.

"Why don't you go and join Bartolomeo. I think he is in his room and plots new, devious plans to harass the girls."

Neville laughed at the exaggeration, knowing full well that Bartolomeo adored his sisters, but nevertheless followed his aunt's suggestion and went upstairs to find his cousin.

As soon as Neville had left the kitchen, Esmeralda's cheerful smile slipped from her face as she addressed her husband, who had returned to his reading: "You did put Lilith back into her terrarium, right?"

Javier's head shot up, the blood in his face draining away, leaving his dark, tanned skin looking rather sickly. "Damn! I forgot! I let her lose in the back room. I thought she could use some exercise. She was getting damn lazy lately."

"Go and get her!" his wife ordered. Javier obeyed immediately hastening from the room. His wife called after him: "And don't forget to x-ray her. Unfortunately even I can't train snakes to scratch other magical creatures from their menu."

*******

Oblivious to the danger of toad-eating serpents Trevor had taken off on one of his expeditions. It was his first time in Spain and he wanted to explore his new environment dutifully. The first few days he had spent mostly sleeping and dozing, simply enjoying (and acclimate to) the unfamiliar warmth and sun of the glorious Spanish summer.

However Trevor was not made to be idle for long and so he had sneaked out of his boy's room early in the morning, when it was still night and the air not as oppressive as it would become in the course of the day. He had been well rewarded. The house was a paradise for inquisitive toads like him.

First of all, lot's of people lived here. Not as many as in the stone castle where he had passed most of his time during the last year , but more than in the old stuffy mansion that Neville referred to as _home_. Secondly, and by far more important, the house was full of animals of all kinds: Owls, cats, rats, … every species that he knew from living in a magical menagerie shop until the cracked wizard had bought him for Neville and then even some that he didn't recognize.

At the moment Trevor was in a room that was decked out in pink hues and an unbelievable mess of junk strewn around everywhere. It looked as if a fickle potion had blown up. At the moment his golden eyes were fastened on his guide.

He had followed the dog (at least he assumed that it was a dog. Though no canine that he had seen before had had such short legs, such a long disproportionate body and similar long hanging ears. However the creature issued the same yapping noises as the animals that Brendine had refered to as dogs) around for a while now and the dog had enjoyed showing the newcomer around.

Trevor hadn't quite caught the name of his tour guide, but it had sounded suspiciously like _Wahu_ or something similar. Wahu had shown Trevor the garden, where they had fun pestering a tabby cat, then the living room with it's comfortable floor-cushions and impressive accumulation of different radio models. Then he had pointed out the always filled food and drinking bowls.

Now the dog's tail was wagging overtime as he beckoned Trevor to join in his fun of mauling a pink slipper. Although the toad couldn't exactly understand the appeal of this activity he had just decided to follow his new friend's example when a furious cry interrupted the fun.

"NO! Bad dog! Bad dog!" the twin of the dog-hostage slipper sailed across the room missing the culprit by far. Nevertheless Wahu seemed to think that it was time for a tactic retreat, abounded his prey and hightailed out of the room.

Trevor croaked indignantly. He couldn't believe it! He would never have guessed his new friend as someone to desert him at the slightest sign of danger. Unfortunately his audiable expression of irritation directed the attention to him. And this attention voiced itself in an ear-splitting scream.

A door was banged violently down the hall and one could hear running feet approaching the pink room. A girl with long brown wavy hair dashed into the chamber: "What the hell?!!!!? Tily what happened?"

Tilda Sanchez looked a little sheepish: "Sorry, I was just surprised. I didn't expect to find a toad perched on my knickers."

"Well, maybe you **should** expect it, when you leave all your clothes lying around on the floor instead of putting them back into the closet." Her sister Saphira commented. Then she eyed Trevor a little closer. "Do you think it is Neville's."

"Probably." Tilda answered and dropped down on her knees to get a better look at the animal: "He is really ugly." She remarked.

_What?!?_ Trevor had been called many things: obnoxious, trying, demanding even annoying, but never _ugly_! Outraged Trevor adopted an offended frown, which admittedly had not much effect on a toad face. Consequently the two sisters were not impressed and Saphira was obliged to agree with her younger sister, that yes, the toad was quite ugly, even for a amphibian.

They silently examined the animal when suddenly Tilda crowed loudly: "I have an idea!"

Saphira tipped her head to the side, waiting for her sister to continue.

"Let's play dress up!" the seven year old suggested.

Her sister clapped her hands gleefully: "Oh, yes! Let's give him a rehaul! You'll catch him and I go to fetch mama's make-up!"

As Trevor was an unusually brave and fearless toad his inborn flight instincts kicked in a second too late. Before he could make a run for it, Tilda had gripped him firmly in both of her little hands. There helped no squirming, wriggling and kicking – he was the girl's prisoner and at her mercy.

Only a few minutes later Saphira returned form the raid of her mother's drawer. She had pulled her shirt away from her body and piled all of her mothers cosmetica into the thus formed pouch, making sure that she could transport everything in one go. Saphira dumped her booty on her sister's bed.

Saphira turned to face her sister and their victim. Her eyes were gleaming as she cracked her knuckles: "All right, let's get started."

*******

Half an hour later Trevor had given up. Two girls teaming up against him, intent to give him a new style was more than he could handle. Grudgingly he surrendered to his fate and ceased to constantly move.

As soon as the sisters felt the toad's resistance waning they doubled their efforts. Though the girls were not fooled into carelessness. Tilda maintained a firm hold on the poor toad and dished out instructions, while Saphira handled the make-up articles.

"Let's start over, now that we got him to hold still." Tilda said. "First he needs a foundation, his complexion is awful. Use the base powder over there."

Saphira obiently swirled the puff in her mothers expensive _Le Romain_ powder and then dusted Trevor's whole body with a generous amount of it.

"Great, now we'll give him some colour. No, not that one! Use that rouge, the darker one."

"And what eye shadow should we apply?" Saphira asked as she metiodiously spread the blush.

"The ice-blue one?" Tilda suggested.

"Nah, that would clash with the rouge." Saphira objected.

Tilda pushed her quivering bottom lip out and argued in a whiny tone: "But I like ice-blue!"

Saphira new that it was probably fruitless to engage in a fight over this, as Tilda would most likely win anyway and relented. "All right, I'll put the blue eye shadow on, but I get to choose the nail polish we're going to use."

Thus Trevor ended up, wearing bronze toned foundation, pink rouge, ice-blue eye shadow, an elegantly swung white eyeliner and orange nail polish. "Oh, look at you!" Saphira gushed, admiring her handiwork.

"We're not finished yet!" Tilda protested "Here, hold him for a sec'."

The seven-year old pressed Trevor on her older sister. Then she dived into the mess that was her room. Tilda rummaged around, pieces of clothing, toys, books and crayons uncerimously shoved or thrown out of the way and dumped on yet another heap of her numerous belongings.

Saphira couldn't help to wrinkle her nose. She wasn't one for overly tidy bedrooms herself, but at least in her room _orderly_ chaos prevailed. She always knew exactly were everything was, though she had to allow that others might see nothing but the same disarray that governed Tilda's domain.

A triumphant cry could be heard from under Tilda's bed: "I knew it had to be somewhere!" She crawled back out, dragging a battered wicker basket after her.

Saphira and Trevor watched her, the first with curiosity the other with dread. "What's that?" Saphira asked giddy with anticipation.

Tilda smiled brightly and Trevor gulped. With a great flourish Tilda swept the cover from the basket and revealed her vast collection of Circe outfits (Circe is a very popular doll with young witches world-wide. She is something of the wizarding equivalent to the muggle Barbie).

"Oh, great!" Saphira giggled and the two girls threw themselves into the activity of finding the perfect clothes for Trevor. In the end they agreed on the black synthetic leather dress form punk-Circe. Tilda had first been reluctant about the choice, because Trevor was a boy. However when Saphira argued that according to Neville's tales about his pet, Trevor would probably be intrigued by cross-dressing she was convinced and helped Saphira to coerce the toad into the garment.

Trevor's opposition had sparked again, at the prospect of being subjected to the indignity of a soulless dress-doll and he put up quite a fight. However the odds were against him and the girls emerged victorious. When his struggles to wriggle out of the offending clothing proved fruitless, he returned to his quiet suffering. After all, it couldn't get much worse. Promptly Tilda succeeded in proving him wrong and things got from bad to downright ugly.

Trevor was so focused on Tilda, who tried in vain to force a pair of blue and a pair of crimson Circe-high heels on his feet that he didn't notice the elder girl leaving the room. He only realised that she had been absent when Tilda flung one of the shoes (or rather: torture instrument) at the wall with a frustrated cry and Saphira asked what was wrong just re-entering the room.

"Those stupid shoes don't fit him!" Tilda whined.

"Doesn't matter." Saphira answered "If the shoes had fit no one would have been able to see his prettily painted toes."

"You're right." Tilda nodded and let the remaining foot-wear drop carelessly on the floor as she turned towards her sister. Her eyes light up when she saw what Saphira had brought: "Where did you get that?!"

Saphira grinned proudly as she presented a bunch of long reddish hairs: "It's from Jamiely."

"The fat kneazle that mum is supposed to train as a guide cat?"

Saphira nodded: "Yup. He's shedding like crazy. All I needed to do was brush a comb through his fur a few times and I ended up with this. Now, fetch some glue, paper and a scissor, we're going to fashion Trevor a wig."

"Yeay!" Tilda dropped Trevor into a escape-proof box, which she originally got to lock in her dairy. However, the journal was long lost and now it was the ideal place to imprison Trevor. Then she dashed of to get the required materials.

Meanwhile Saphira was searching for a scrape of free space on her sister's desk. Not finding any she shrugged and uncerimously swept the cluster onto the floor making room for their project. When everything was prepared they sat down and started working. The two girls were avidly occupied for the better part of an hour until they completed the toad-wig.

"Now, to the finish!" Tilda declared and went to unlock the box. She scoped up a now truly pissed off Trevor in full drag and sat him gently on the table top. Saphira put the wig with ceremonial earnestness on Trevor's head. Both of the girl's laughed delighted, while Trevor was still sulking.

"Now, look at you." Tilda cooed "you clean up nicely, don't you?"

"Wait!" Saphira said excitedly, "I'll bring you a mirror, so you can see for yourself!"

No sooner said then done she placed a red rimmed looking-glass in front of the toad.

Trevor's jaw dropped. He wanted to utter a shocked exclamation, but he wasn't able to form even the simplest croak. What had those monsters done to him?!?

The girls were laughing and crowing over him, mistaking his shell-shocked state as approval when it knocked at the door.

"Bartolomeo." Saphira hissed and her sister nodded.

It was not like the two could see through the door, but their brother was the only one who would bother to knock, before entering a room. The other members of the Sanchez household would simply dash in. Quickly the sisters arranged themselves so that they shielded their creation from view behind their backs. "Come in." Tilda cried.

Bartolomeo Sanchez opened the door carefully, with his little sisters you never knew. Only when nothing happened he pushed it fully open. Their other sister and their cousin accompanied him. "Hey you two! Nantje needs to visit the library and Nev' and I decided to accompany her to town. Do you want to come with us?"

Like one Saphira and Tilda shook their heads and Tilda answered: "No, we're having so much fun at the moment playing together. We' ll stay."

Bartolomeo shrugged and was about to leave the room when Nantje's sharp words stopped him: "What have you gotten up to now?"

"Nothing!" the younger girls chorused batting their eyelashes.

Nantje's eyes just narrowed: "Spit it out! Both of you only manage to look _this_ innocent when you actually did something."

"Ah, come on, Nani. Let it go. It can't be too bad. At least they have been quiet most of the afternoon."

_Had that been his owner's voice?_ Trevor was rather sure of it and anyway, he was desparte. He needed to escape from the clutches of those vicious ogresses! He collected himself, closing his eyes in order to dispel the horrible picture he made and croaked louder than he had ever before.

"Was that a toad?" he heard his boy ask.

_Yes! It had worked_!

The two girls were shifting and uming, trying to conceal Trevor, but Neville shoved them carefully aside.

Silence.

Then: "My God!!! Good Merlin! What did they do to you!" Neville tentatively poked a finger at the wig.

Bartolomeo was guwaffing, Nantje was trying to suppress an amused grin, while Saphira and Tilda were giggling, rather proud of their work.

Trevor glared daggers at them. They should better watch out. At the next opportunity he got he would spit into their lemonade glasses. Neville was the only one who didn't joined into the general hilarity. His eyes were clearly shimmering with sympathy and never in his life had Trevor been this glad when his boy picked him up and carried him out of this hell that disguised itself as a girl's sleeping chamber.

*******

Bathed, watered and fed Trevor curled into himself in the safety of his owner's robe pocket. Up until now he had clearly undervalued the merits of this kind of life. But one thing was for sure, he would not flee from Neville and this protected existence for some time. The encounter with those mad girls had been a bit too much. Even for him.

As sleep started to claim him he had to admit that he had had enough adventure for quite some time.

_~End~_


	6. Chapter 6

**THE DRAGON**

It was a day like every other in Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardy. Teachers prepared for their next class or were chatting over a cup of coffee in the conference room. Pupils ran, sauntered, scuffled and roamed the floors of the old castle between classes. From time to time a ghost could be seen drifting by; and poor caretaker Argus Filch once more picked up his fruitless battle against dirty feet.

Neither the ghosts, the busily chatting teenagers nor the harassed Mr. Filch noticed the toad that lurked in a dark corner between the wall and a dusty suit of armour in the third floor.

And it was little wonder. The greenish-brown colour of Trevor's skin blended perfectly into the gloomy dark of shadows and weathered stone. Also, the animal kept perfectly still, not a muscle in its body moved. It was little more than a shadow himself.

Trevor was preparing himself for his next great adventure. Today, he was going to face a dragon!

He had first noticed the place when he had, for once, taken a day off from his expeditions and instead travelled the castle in the robe-pocket of his boy. They had met up with Dean and Seamus, who shared their bedroom. Trevor liked those boys a lot. They were always so pleasantly loud! Never boring.

Whenever those two were around something broke (or burst into flames), girls started to cry or scream in rage or they simply wrecked havoc and left the whole room in chaos. And sometimes, they even managed to achieve all of this at once.

The only reason they were not acknowledged as would have been their due, was the fact that the Weasley twins managed to top everything that other students tried to steal their title as Hogwarts top-troublemakers.

At least Trevor appreciated them as they deserved.

The two of them had taken his boy, Neville, somewhat under their wings. They dragged him along with them when they went for their classes or for meals. They even tried to persuade Neville to join them outside, spying on the Ravenclaw-all-girls-study group, watching the Hufflepuff girls sun-bathing or to watch Quiddich-practices in the grounds.

Most of the time Neville declined their invitations, but Trevor was glad that he had some friends who knew how to live. A toad could do just so much to make its human feel better about himself.

Anyway, as they had walked along the corridors, Seamus stumbling over his own legs every now and then because he insisted on walking backwards while he doing his impression of Professor Snape, Trevor had noted a sudden shift in the boys' bearings.

Their laughter had become subdued and they had treaded suddenly a lot softer on the stone as they passed a set of doors. Around the corner the level of noise had risen back to its previous stage.

Trevor had been intrigued.

He had started to gather all information he could get from eavesdropping on unsuspecting Hogwarts students. This are the main facts the toad had found out:

- Some students stepped out of those doors crying (mainly first and second years)

- Some of the older children left trembling (though _they_ were able to keep their tears in check)

- Most pupils hated to pass through the doors and if they could, they avoided the passage all together

- If they could not avoid it, they generally lowered their voices and their steps did not resound throughout the corridor as loudly as they usually did.

- A select few students seemed to actually enjoy whatever was behind the mysterious doors and talked about the things hidden behind them with awe. This suggested that those things were precious.

- Comments of some more daring peers of Neville's said that those treasures were guarded by a dragon.

All things considered it was perfectly reasonable of Trevor to expect a grand adventure ahead of him.

The toad had waited patiently for some hours, before the chance to enter the mysterious rooms behind the heavy oak doors finally came.

A bushy haired girl pushed against one of the door-wings. Trevor thought he recognized her from the Gryffindor Common Room. Unless he was very much mistaken she was the owner of that fat ugly ginger cat.

Trevor couldn't suppress a small croak, whose human equivalent would have been a scoff. After their last encounter that bag of fleas would think twice before it fancied a snack of toad again.

The girl looked harassed and she did not notice when the toad sneaked into the room after her. Poor Trevor was nearly squashed between the two door-wings as she absentmindly pushed the door closed behind her.

Trevor glared at her back as she hurried down an aisle without a backward glance. Only when her bushy brown hair vanished from his sight he remembered to take a look at the room.

The first thing that caught his eye was the vastness of it. The room was huge!

Not only the width of the room was impressive, but also its enormous height. But a dragon probably needed a lot of space.

The silence in the room was eerie. Never before had Trevor experienced anything like it in Hogwarts castle.

During the daylight the school was alive with the voices of thousand of students and the reproving lectures of their Professors. At night the good spirits of Hogwarts, the House Elves, bustled around, cheerfully and diligently, but certainly not noiselessly, doing their work.

It was as if with crossing the threshold into the room he had entered into a different world.

Trevor shook himself form his impressed staring. It was time to find the dragon!

High, long shelves divided the huge chamber into narrow aisles. They were filled closely with tomes. Some of them new, boasting shining letters that indicated their titles. Some with broken spines obviously well read and others with pages brittle from age. It smelled of polishing agent, ink and paper, with a slight undercurrent of mould and dust.

Slowly Trevor hopped along one of the narrow alleyways, formed by the tall bookshelves. As he intruded deeper into the room, Trevor realized that it was not so quiet after all.

Throughout the hall, in the clear spaces between the shelves and sometimes hidden away in niches all old castles have, desks and chairs were set up. A few of them were presently occupied by Hogwarts students.

They did their work in silence, but noises that otherwise would drown in their chatter now seemed overly loud. A pale boy was leaving lazily through a tome, pages rustling. Another was copying something down on parchment, quill scratching. A third asked for the meaning of a sentence in a soft whisper, which was hardly more than a breath.

Sometimes robes were crinkling as they brushed against shelves as their owners walked silently past. Or a chair was scrapping as it was pulled out to sit down on it.

One could go as far and call the atmosphere peaceful, though Trevor would rather choose the word 'boring' to describe it. The toad preferred rackous a lot more.

_And where the hell was the dragon?_

Two hours and many dreary rows of shelves later, Trevor had to earnestly consider the possibility that his sources might have been misinformed. There was no dragon to be found.

Besides, he had always thought that dragons were hording glittering treasures, which, of course, made a lot more sense than storing books. Even though dragons could control the ability very well, they _did_ breathe fire.

So, what if the dragon of this hall (assuming there was one) had a cold? One sneeze and its whole den would go up in flames.

Though certainly amusing, it would be the height of stupidity to house a dragon in a place like this.

Trevor gave a toad-sigh, it seemed like he had expected too much from this field-trip. However, Trevor was stubborn and he refused to give hope up entirely. If he kept on, he might come across at least a small adventure.

Trevor decided to keep an eye on of the study-corners, the places with the most activity in the vast room, summarizing that this was the most likely venue for something entertaining to happen.

He found a nice perch in-between an old tome titled _'Potions Positively Prime'_ and a fringy copy of _"Divination: How to successfully master weather forecast'_. Both of whom looked as if they'd found their final resting place.

This reassured Trevor that he wasn't likely to be caught as he nestled comfortably into the gap between the two volumes. From his hiding – place the toad had a good view of one of the larger study corners in the hall.

Three large tables had been pushed together and a row of chairs with faded green padding was placed around them. About half of the chairs were occupied by Hogwarts students, all of them studiously working in silence.

Trevor watched the pupils struggle through their tomes, in hopes that something would happen. Usually, children were a guarantee for that.

So Trevor waited.

And waited.

And waited.

The most exiting thing that happened during all this time was that the largest of the three Slytherin boys, huddling together over a black book, cut his finger at the book's paper and wailed like he'd been clubbed by a troll.

Trevor must have dozed off at one point, because he startled awake at the sudden scraping noise of a carelessly moved chair.

Trevor peeked down and saw that it was the bushy haired girl of the bandy-legged cat-devil that had made the noise. She was the last that had remained at the study tables. The way her bag dragged her sideways suggested that she had pocketed all the books, which before had been piled high on the table around her.

Trevor watched her vanish into the direction of the doors with bated breath. Maybe such blatant thievery of its treasures would provoke the dragon into action.

But nothing happened.

Trevor let the air out with a disappointed puff. Even though all evidence had spoken against the existence of a dragon, he had still harboured some hope that it was simply extremely shy.

The spare remainders of the daylight that flittered through the high windows told Trevor that most students would be in the Great hall, pursuing the favourite past time of growing children. Eating.

Trevor contemplated his options. Should he return to his boy and give up the library as a lost cause? Or should he stay the night in hopes that the next day would bring more excitement? After all, the room was huge and he had not yet wandered all paths and explored all nooks.

The decision was taken out of his hands as finally all waiting of the day paid off.

Only two aisles further down the distinct sound of several books hitting the ground could be heard.

If Trevor had thought the room silent when he first entered, it was nothing to the unnatural silence that now descended over it. Even the buzzing of stray flies and the gnawing of bookworms seemed to have stopped. The whole room seemed to hold its breath.

Two heartbeats later a roar of fury tore through the room.

_The dragon! _Trevor thought exited and sped down the rows of shelves towards the place were the books had fallen.

Trevor's hurry was such, that he hardly got the turn when he reached the right alleyway. He _did_ manage to drift around the bend, but his hind legs lost grip and his momentum carried him straight into the wooden shelve with a dull thump.

Dizzy from the impact the toad shook its head to clear it. When the scene in front of him stopped swimming his breath caught.

There it was - the dragon.

Though it was smaller than he had expected, it was a truly intimidating creature.

Presently it was towering over the offending party, a cowering student, with blurry eyes and wrinkled clothes. The poor kid had probably fallen asleep over his work. In his haste at realising the time and still half asleep he seemed to have stumbled into the shelf and knocked the tomes down.

Trevor could swear he saw smoke coming from the dragon's nostrils and it looked almost ready to breathe fire. It seemed to restrain itself only in consideration of the flammable books in the room.

However this did not mean it couldn't display its rage by other means. It reached out with its claws and shook the poor boy violently, screaming loudly.

However fascinating the study of dragons' feeding habits might be, Trevor thought that it was time to intervene, before the dragon really mangled the unfortunate student. It would do no one any good.

Not the boy, for the obvious reasons that he would be dead. Not the dragon, because if it started eating students, the headmaster would be no longer allowed to house a dragon in the school library.

And this was, without considering the mess that tearing a student into bite-seized pieces would make. Oh, the tantrum that old Mr. Filch would throw... Again, certainly amusing to witness, but not worth the trouble.

Then again, how does one distract a fully grown dragon from its prey? Especially if one is a toad?

But Trevor felt confident that he could handle the situation. After all, dragons and toads both belonged to the family of amphibians. However distant the relationship was, it should count for something.

Furthermore he had learned a thing or two from _Wahu_ during his stay in Spain. The dog had never failed to attract the attention of his family. Trevor knew exactly how he'd get the beast's full attention.

Trevor positioned himself, sitting very straight, forelegs apart to ensure a stable stand and chest swelled.

When in doubt – bark.

And it was a very impressive bark, if he said so himself.

The boy and the dragon seemed to think so as well, as both their heads turned into Trevor's direction.

"A toad!" the dragon gasped furiously, going pale with rage.

It made a move towards Trevor, claws reaching out for him: "NO ANIMALS ARE ALLOWED INTO THE LIBRARY!!!!!" it roared.

The boy, momentarily forgotten, seized his chance and fled the room, running for his life. The dragon heard the fleeing footsteps and whirled around: "You nasty, little book-desecrater! Stop at once."

Though the boy had proven to be foolish, he was not stupid enough to heed this command.

The dragon prepared to follow the fugitive, but Trevor prevented it by casting himself between the dragon and the library doors.

The beast glared down at the toad and Trevor met its livid gaze unflinching, trying to convey to his larger relative that it would be the best for all parties concerned to let the boy go.

The dragon sighed defeated: "You're right. Dumbledore is always admonishing Argus and me" It deepened its voice into a mock-imitation of the headmaster's cheery tone: "No killing students, that's very bad press for the school."

The dragon scowled in disgust.

"Bloody fool if you ask me, there are so many of them crawling around the castle. No one would be sorry to see one or two vanish without explanation. They are always feeling up my books with their unwashed grubby little hands. And they seem to be unable to cease their constant chattering. Is it too much to ask for a bit of peace in a library?"

Trevor sat perfectly still and let the dragon rant. His eyes remained firmly fixed on the dragon, though if one looked closer one would be able to see that they were a bit glazed over. From time to time he nodded or croaked in an encouraging way. A valid tactic to pacify anything that was angry & female.

This case proofed to be no expectation to the rule.

After the dragon had vent its anger in this fashion for some time and re-shelved the fallen books, it stopped and faced the toad.

A thin smile stole itself on the dragon's lips: "I suppose I should thank you."

"Though NO animals are allowed in the library." It added sternly.

Trevor cocked his head and croaked questioning.

The dragon's smile returned: "I suppose I can make an exception for you. Just, don't tell anyone." It stooped to pick up the toad.

With one of its hand-like claws it stroked down Trevor's back: "I'll have some tea in my office in the back. If you want I can tell you lot's of stories of students and their near-death experiences with me. It's very entertaining.

Trevor hopped enthusiastically and gave an excited croak.

_~End~_


	7. Chapter 7

**DISCLAIMER**: I DO NOT OWN THE POEM "T'WAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS" NOR ANYONE FROM THE HP VERSE

'**T was the Night before Christmas**

'_**T**__was the night before Christmas, when all through the house  
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;  
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,  
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;  
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,  
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;  
And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,  
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,  
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,  
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter._

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

It was the 24th of December, Christmas Eve.

The ticking of the antique grandfather clock was the only thing that disturbed the stillness in the Longbottom residence.

Silence.

A very rare occurrence in the large Victorian building, that housed a stern witch, a clumsy wizard in training, an adventurous toad, four owls, eight house-elves and an ever changing, but never waning supply of eccentric visiting relatives.

Neville was lying upstairs in his room, cuddling a pillow to his chest and a gum wrapper held closely in his fist.

Two rooms further down the hall, Neville's Great Aunt Enid was sleeping peacefully, moaning from time to time, a smile on her face. Her dreams seemed to be of the most pleasant sort.

Meanwhile, Neville's grandmother had fallen asleep in her armchair. She was snoring happily away, dressed in an old-fashioned, frilly nightdress and a matching night-cap.

Downstairs, the living room had been already prepared in anticipation of tomorrows festivities.

A huge tree had been brought in and Augusta and her grandson had decorated it together, as was their tradition.

Only two Christmas baubles had lost their lives.

The house-elves, not allowed near the tree, had in exchange gone overboard with the decoration of the rest of the room. Wherever one looked holly, garlands, candy-canes, fir twigs, tinsel and Veela hair could be seen.

And above the fireplace the Longbottoms had hung their wizard hats.

Another dear family tradition, as Algie had once remarked that a lot more presents would fit into a hat than did into a stocking.

In one of those hats, Trevor the Toad had found a comfortable bed for the night.

All was quite and peaceful and ...

_Crash_.

The toad jerked awake.

Being the ever curious creature he was, he jumped out of his sleeping quarters without hesitation to see what the racket was about.

_**A**__way to the window I flew like a flash,  
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.  
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow  
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,  
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,  
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,  
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,  
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.  
More rapid than eagles his coursers came,  
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;_

Hurriedly Trevor hobbled to the window and dogged under the curtains to get a clear view of the park and blinked owlishly out into the night.

Though usually England lacked new-fallen snow around Christmas time, the Longbottoms always made sure to conjure some for their property. Though not at all a sentimental woman, Augusta claimed that there was just something lacking, if one didn't have snow for Christmas.

The sky was clear; the moon at its fullest and its pale light was reflected by the snow. Anyone who happened to look out of the windows of Longbottom residence had no trouble to see what was going on outside.

It was a most curious sight that was presented to any observer.

Because, what else should have crashed to the Longbottom lawn, but a miniature sleigh and eight tiny ... reindeer?

The driver was a little, thin man, who was laughing in delight and called out:

_Now, Dasher! Now, Dancer! Now, Prancer and Vixen!__  
__On, Comet! On Cupid! On, Donner and Blitzen!__  
__To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!__  
__Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!_

One of the creatures turned around and said: „Master got it wrong. Its not our names. Our names is Itsy, Bitsie, Teenie, Weeny; Dotty, Motty, Potie and Crock."

The driver laughed and straightened the fake antlers on the creatures head: "Yes, I know. But I have to call you differently tonight. That is very important for role-playing.

Now, let's get onto the roof."

_**A**__s dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,  
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,  
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,  
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.  
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof  
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.  
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,  
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound._

The masked house-elves did a bit of their special magic and rose up into the sky. The sleigh, which they were hauling along, was dangling precariously underneath them, while the little man was hanging on, feet in the air and laughing in a rather maniac way.

Moments later there was a dull thump on the roof and the scrambling of little feet, trying to gain footing, could be heard.

Trevor quickly dodged back under the curtains, turning expectantly around to the fireplace. His feeling telling them that the story would most likely continue there.

Sure enough a second later the little sleigh-driver came bounding down the chimney.

"Ow." The man said and tried to turn-out the embers that caught on his boots. "I forget to put out the fire _first_ every year."

_**H**__e was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,  
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;  
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,  
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.  
His eyes -- how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!  
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!  
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,  
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow; _

The man's red robe with fur collar was mucked with ashes, but it did not seem to bother him.

His eyes twinkled as he noticed the toad sitting in front of the grate, watching him curiously.

"Hey, Trevor." The man greeted "Neville has been looking for you all over the place. Again."

Trevor tilted his head, observing the curious red colour of the man's nose, which was dribbling and the false white beard that had come partially undone.

"Ups." The man said as he noticed the direction of the toads gaze and quickly put the beard back to its proper state, grinning foolishly.

_**T**__he stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,  
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;  
He had a broad face and a little round belly,  
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.  
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,  
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;  
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,  
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;_

The man winked drolly at the toad and Trevor croaked in amusement.

Great uncle Algie was weird.

_**H**__e spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,  
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,  
And laying his finger aside of his nose,  
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;  
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,  
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.  
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,  
__**"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"**_

Diligently the (poorly) disguised Algie opened his bag and started to pull wondrous things out of it, which he then stuffed into the wizard hats hung over the fireplace.

When he had finished his work he walked back to the chimney, pulled his wand out of his robes and with a quick levitation charm rose back up the sooty pipe.

And as the house-elves/reindeers pulled the sleigh once more into the air, Trevor could hear Algie's magnified voice crying joyously: "Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Christmas to all!"

As Trevor once more got comfortable in Neville's hat, now filled with presents, he thought sleepily that Augusta Longbottom should not wonder why her grandson still believed in Santa Claus.


End file.
